Power Play

Will Chile's looming energy crisis spell ruin for one

of South America's last wild places? Colin Barraclough reports on the turf war at the end of the earth

No bright lights tarnish the night sky over Caleta Tortel, a tiny settlement in Chilean Patagonia; no noise disturbs the quiet save the crowing of cockerels and the dull thud of ax on wood. Perched on the steep forested slopes above the Baker River, Patagonia's most powerful, Caleta Tortel's houses are set on stilts and connected by catwalks that descend to a bay encircled by snowy peaks. The town's 510 residents have no telephone connection to the outside world; the single concession to modern life is the monthly arrival by air of a dentist, a doctor, and a mobile bank.

Caleta Tortel is typical of the isolated settlements that dot Chile's Aisén region, a dramatic stretch of Patagonian backcountry riven by raging rivers, glaciers, snowcapped volcanoes, and temperate rain forests. Sandwiched between the Andes and the Pacific, cut off by fjords in the north and by some of the largest caps of permanent ice outside Antarctica in the south, the area's many national parks and nature reserves make this one of the most compelling ecotourism destinations on earth. "Aisén is incredibly beautiful, easily on a par with the great natural places in the United States," says Kristine Tompkins, whose land trust, Conservación Patagonica, spent $10 million to buy a 170,000-acre estancia in Aisén in 2004. The trust plans to merge the land with neighboring wildlife reserves to create a national park as large and ecologically significant as Yosemite. Since 1990, Tompkins and her husband, Douglas, have amassed more than two million acres in Patagonia, shutting down farming, forestry, and mining operations and kick-starting their land's return to wilderness. (The couple earned a fortune in the clothing industry—Kristine as CEO of Patagonia, Inc., and Douglas as founder of Esprit.)

Yet villages such as Caleta Tortel and the pristine landscape that surrounds them are now under threat from a plan by the country's largest electricity producer, Endesa Chile, to build a series of dams on Aisén's Pascua and Baker rivers as part of a vast hydroelectric project. In the face of vocal opposition from environmentalists, landowners, and local salmon farmers whose business depends on Aisén's pure water, the Chilean government must make a critical decision: Should Aisén's unique landscape be protected—and promoted through sustainable tourism—or should the powerful natural forces that created it be harnessed for the country's economic benefit?

Long a playground for outdoor adventurers, Aisén's untamed wilderness is starting to attract mainstream travelers as well: Some 35,000 visitors arrive each year, most to hike the hanging glaciers of Queulat National Park or to bike amid the jumble of basalt spires in the Cerro Castillo National Reserve. The more adventurous kayak white-water rivers, climb 13,300-foot San Valentín, Patagonia's highest peak, or explore the seawater fjords that cut into Pumalín National Park, a 790,000-acre Andes-to-Pacific tract of old-growth forests, glaciers, and fjords just north of Aisén. Yet with Chile's demand for energy increasing by five percent annually, few would argue that developing the region as a tourist destination would bring as many economic benefits as creating electricity with the Baker and Pascua dams.

The country currently imports 90 percent of its power, most of it in the form of natural gas from Argentina. Since 2004, however, Argentina has struggled to meet its own needs and has slashed export volumes and hiked prices by 50 percent. (Neighboring Bolivia, which sits on South America's second-largest gas reserves, refuses to supply Chile due to a century-old territorial dispute.) In response, Chilean power companies have proposed a slew of new hydroelectric projects that would harness the flow of some of the country's most powerful rivers. Last year, the Spanish-owned Endesa, in conjunction with a regional power company, began geological surveys at 11 possible dam sites on the Baker and the Pascua. Endesa has released little information about its plans, and company officials have refused all requests for clarification. Nevertheless, Endesa executives have suggested that the company wants to build as many as six dams, flooding at least 23,000 acres of forest, river valley, and farmland. To transmit the electricity from Aisén to Santiago, the capital, the company intends to run 1,200 miles of high-tension cable along a series of 11-story pylons. Endesa also plans to clear a 330-foot-wide protective corridor that will run the length of the cable and to build an adjacent access road—all through virgin rain forest. Construction is scheduled to begin next year, with inauguration of the first plant slated for 2012.

Predictably, Endesa's plan has provoked intense opposition from environmentalists, who reel off a lengthy list of the perils facing Aisén, from flooded river valleys to the destruction of the habitat of endemic plant and animal species. "The problem is the sheer scale of the project: Endesa doesn't want to dam just one river—it's putting dams all over the place," says Tompkins, who fears that one of the dams may be built near the park she is creating. "These high-tension wires will cut a giant swath through southern Chile. Environmentally and aesthetically, the plan is just plain bad." Peter Hartmann, the Aisén-based director of Chile's National Committee for the Defense of Flora and Fauna, agrees. "Whatever route the transmission lines take," he says, "it's simply not possible to avoid a great many national parks and nature reserves." A number of ecologists believe that Chile has real alternatives in its bid for greater energy security, and the government has already outlined ambitious plans for the development of renewable wind, geothermal, and solar energy.

Those in favor of the Endesa project, on the other hand, see it as a much needed boost for both the local and the national economies. "We have no objection to the project," says Luis Gallardo, mayor of Chaitén, a town that sits on the most likely route for Endesa's proposed cable. "Electrical energy is an issue that transcends the needs of individual regions. It's for the whole country. Besides, anything that brings money or jobs to Chaitén is good for the region." Supporters of the plan also say that it would solve Chile's energy problems for generations to come by substantially reducing the cost of new hydroelectric projects throughout southern Chile. "It could turn Patagonia into a vast factory for electricity," says vocal critic Ian Farmer, who owns the Aisen-based Patagonia Adventure Expeditions.

So far, the Chilean government has remained neutral on the whole issue, but President Michelle Bachelet, who was elected last year on a center-left platform embracing environmental protection and renewable energy, has failed to quell critics' fears that Endesa will be given the green light. "Bachelet was ambiguous," says Hartmann, who met with the president in November to outline his concerns. "The government is substantially divided."

As Chile's largest electricity provider and a formerly state-owned company, Endesa is well connected politically. Environmentalists note that the company needs to pass just a single federal environmental impact assessment before starting work. The results of the government assessment are expected by the end of the year. It already owns the rights to 80 percent of Aisén's rivers, courtesy of General Augusto Pinochet's government, which awarded them to Endesa during the company's much-criticized privatization in the 1980s. In 2005, following Argentina's sudden decision to cut gas supplies to Chile, the Chilean parliament imposed hefty fines on power companies that failed to utilize their water rights. Endesa and others were granted a seven-year grace period for the Aisén region, but the fines will go into effect in 2012—exactly when Endesa expects to inaugurate its first dam.

Environmentalists, though, are heartened by their success in halting—with the Chilean government's support—the construction of an aluminum plant and three dams near the remote village of Puerto Aisén in 2003. According to Glenn Switkes, Latin American coordinator for the California-based nonprofit International Rivers Network, that victory "set a precedent, showing that a project of this scale can be stopped for environmental reasons alone." Switkes and other dam opponents hope that Chile's current government will take a similar stand. If not, they say, Patagonia's days as a dramatic, untamed wilderness may be numbered.

**If You Go

**Aisén's wild beauty may soon be tamed—all the more reason to see it now

Independent travel in Aisén is rewarding but logistically taxing. The main hub is Coyhaique, the only town in the region with a car rental agency or even a cash machine. The closest airport is at Balmaceda, 40 miles away, but buses run frequently to Coyhaique. From there, rent a four-by-four to explore the area's wildlife reserves, which are mostly accessible from a gravel-surfaced highway, the Carretera Austral. Before setting out, stock up on Chilean military maps (available online at igm.cl). Alternatively, you can venture south via air taxi and return by bus. Coyhaique-based Aisén Bridges Travel can help with the planning (aisen.cl). Another option is to book a tour: Patagonia Adventure Expeditions offers hiking, biking, and horseback trips (adventurepatagonia.com); Expediciones Chile has rafting and kayaking guides (exchile.com); and Isla Monita specializes in fly-fishing (islamonita.cl). The best accommodations include the cypress-framed El Puesto (elpuesto.cl; doubles, $86) and the lakeside Terra Luna Lodge (terra-luna.cl; doubles, $120), both within a day's drive of Coyhaique. The cushier choices are Fiordo Queulat, on a fjord in the jungle (queulatlodge.com; doubles, $190), and Bahía Mala, on a black sand beach (burcoadventure.com; doubles, $500 per person with a six-person minimum).